


Psych 101

by WordsAblaze



Series: Whumpskier [11]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Competent Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Whumptober, no beta we die like jaskier doesn't, with very little comfort tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:26:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26957293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsAblaze/pseuds/WordsAblaze
Summary: Geralt may not be able to stop Jaskier from using himself as a diversion to protect Ciri but he won't let him do it alone... day eleven of whumptober.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Whumpskier [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949428
Comments: 6
Kudos: 85





	Psych 101

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't leave myself a lot of time to proofread so pls excuse any mistakes/plot holes, thank you <3  
> today's pairing: geralt/jaskier  
> prompts used: defiance / struggling

“It’s the only way,” Jaskier hisses urgently. 

Geralt shakes his head immediately. “It’s a terrible way.” 

“We can’t risk them finding out it was her,” Jaskier argues, gesturing to Ciri. And he’s right, of course, she’d worn herself out with all that magic and she’s currently not even strong enough to stay awake, tucked in Vesemir’s arms.

Vesemir sighs. “We can’t lose you either.” 

Jaskier’s resolve softens just a little but he’s never had a reputation for being easily swayed so he just offers up a regretful smile. “I’m the easiest to lose,” he whispers as firmly as if he’d have shouted.

“No, you’re  _ not _ ,” Geralt fires, grabbing Jaskier’s hand as he turns to walk away.

“Geralt, darling, please don’t try and stop me,” Jaskier murmurs, avoiding anyone’s gaze as he tries to remove himself from his white wolf’s grip.

“I’m not going to stop you,” Geralt says surely, “I’m going with you.”

Jaskier gasps, looking over to Vesemir. The older witcher shrugs. “I know that even I cannot argue with the two of you. But if you go together, I expect you to return together. We  _ all _ expect you to come back, do you understand me?”

Jaskier and Geralt take one final glance at Ciri before nodding, their fingers interlocking as they head the opposite direction of Kaer Morhen, right at the small army following them.

It doesn’t take them long to be found.

They wake up slumped against one another in the corner of a cell. Geralt stiffens first, instinctively pulling Jaskier closer to him as he sees the two men standing at the entrance. 

“Interesting,” one of them says, sharing a sideways look with the other before leaving.

Jaskier exhales, melting into Geralt’s touch. “What’s happening?” he whispers softly enough to evade everyone’s ears but his witcher’s. 

Geralt doesn’t have time to reply because the man from before returns, accompanied by another whose helmet tells them he has far more authority than his peers. “Well isn’t that just adorable?” he sneers.

Jaskier smirks at him. “Jealous?”

“Of two death warrants? Not so much.”

“On what grounds?” Geralt asks, his voice perfectly smooth, the only indication of how worried he is being the way his fingers are curled tightly around Jaskier’s waist.

The soldier with the strange helmet laughs. “I find it hard to believe you don’t already know.”

Jaskier shrugs.”Maybe we do, maybe we don’t. But we can’t truly tell until you make yourself clear, can we?”

One of the other two soldiers steps forwards and yanks on Jaskier’s arm, hard. He gasps, slipping out of Geralt’s grasp and stumbling as Geralt lunges forwards, only for the two of them to hear chains rattle and realise that only Jaskier had been unrestrained. 

“Let go of him,” Geralt snarls, but his expression morphs into confusion when the chains don’t even slightly creak against his struggling. He briefly pauses his anger to wonder how he’d missed them in the first place.

“Shall I take this as a confession of jealousy after all?” Jaskier asks, his gaze flicking between the soldier’s bruising grip on his arm and the way the weird-helmet-man's lip is curling up in a mixture of amusement and disgust.

He finds himself sprawled on the floor without warning. “You’re the one who’s going to give us a confession,” weird-helmet-man replies, raising an eyebrow as Jaskier groans, propping himself up on his elbows.

He glances at Geralt, who looks absolutely furious but seems to be wisely refraining from commenting. Not that he has much choice, what with the cuffs and all. But he doesn’t get to glance for very long because a rather distinct weight settles above him.

One of the lesser soldiers, with a dagger to his throat. How unoriginal.

Jaskier flips them over almost effortlessly, grinning when he sees genuine fear in the soldiers eyes, accidentally but not really accidentally pressing a little too hard to prove his point and possibly drawing just a  _ hint _ of blood.

“So the flower has thorns,” the other lesser soldier says, sounding a little too impressed to be condescending.

“Have you ever actually studied flowers?” Geralt scoffs.

“Or thorns?” Jaskier adds.

He freezes when he feels the sword at his own neck though, groaning softly as he’s forced to stand up, turning to find the weird helmet man smiling at him. “You know, we could pretend we only ever found one of you.”

Jaskier tightens his grip on the dagger. “Ah well, that would then be a rather direct falsehood. I wouldn’t be too sure that Nilfgaard’s  _ supposedly _ unidentified ill-wishers would appreciate or let that slide, would you?”

He’s pressed up against the wall in the time it takes for him to inhale, the sword at his throat and a hand twisting his wrist so the dagger he’s gripping is one deep breath away from piercing his own skin.

“How could you possibly know that?” the man hisses at him.

“Hurt him and not even those who call you their ancestors will know peace!” Geralt shouts from across the room, metal clinking as he tugs on the chains once more.

Jaskier swallows his wince as the dagger is nudged just a little closer, tilting his head as far back as possible so he can speak without drawing blood. “Unlike every other amateur that attempts to frighten us with insignificant threats, I know how to wield information.”

Weird-helmet-man hums. “And do you know how to exchange it?”

“You only need one of us for that,” Jaskier whispers back, nodding his head to Geralt, who he knows is frowning because he’s making a deal in which they don’t keep their promise to Vesemir.

“I’ll take that as a no,” weird-helmet-man replies, apparently not satisfied with letting Geralt go no matter what Jaskier can offer in return.

Pain blooms in Jaskier’s stomach.

He gasps, looking away from the man’s smug smirk over to Geralt’s wide eyes. A witcher’s nose can definitely smell the metallic redness oozing towards the floor and it’s all Jaskier can do to offer Geralt an apologetic smile. Then the dagger is yanked away and Jaskier  _ crumples _ .

“No! Jaskier!” Geralt yells, but said bard can’t hear him because he has his eyes closed.

His eyes stay closed even as he gargles, coughing up enough crimson to recolour his lips and start dyeing his shirt in one of the most unorthodox methods possible.

They stay closed even as Geralt threatens his way out of his restraints with false promises of curses before unceremoniously falling to his knees beside his favourite troubadour. 

They stay closed even when a witcher’s tears drip onto his face as two different sorceresses work together to stitch his skin back together and keep him alive.

And then they open again.

**Author's Note:**

> ... and then Vesemir whacked the back of their heads for almost breaking their promise to come back alive ;)
> 
> thanks for reading !! toss a kudos / comment? xx


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